Goddeseoce
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: AU. The story of a brothel; its master, and his pet.


A/N: Because I suck at smut...

**Goddeseoce**

_**Chapter One**_

"I have brought you the boy, sir."

Murata Ken pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, making the lenses gleam under the dim light. A devious smile grew on his face.

"Very well. You may leave, Ulrike," he said and waved the servant away.

She scurried off, not before opening the door and bowing herself out. A shivering, puzzled Wolfram followed her wake.

"Welcome, Sir Bielefield."

The blond snapped to and let himself in the room. The door shut ominously behind him, plunging the place in semi-darkness, save for a blinkin fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling.

"State your purpose," Murata said.

Wolfram's frown went unseen in the dark. What a funny thing to ask. Wouldn't simply being in his presence implicate his purpose? Nervousness compelled him to simply answer.

"I want to join Goddeseoce, sir."

Keen eyes behind those glasses bore straight into his. Wolfram felt his resolve falter. It broke a little as Murata sat up straight on his high-backed chair.

"Come closer, Sir Bielefield."

Wolfram took hesitant steps.

"Closer."

The blond arrived at the center of the room, extremely self-conscious of himself by the fact he was being spotlighted.

"Closer, boy. What part of that don't you understand?" Murata snapped. Wolfram felt a tug around his hips and was unceremoniously jerked forward. He fell into the black-haired man's lap.

"Much better," Murata whispered softly into the blond's ear, making him squirm. He grabbed the boy's jaw and forced the face up so he could examine his features. Large, bright, sea-green eyes stared fearfully back.

"You're pretty," he said and trailed his fingers down Wolfram's outstretched neck. The blond shut his eyes and nervously swallowed as the feather touch rested on his Adam's apple. "You look well-bred. Why join Goddeseoce?"

Murata used both hands to continue his examination while Wolfram explained himself.

"I was abandoned," he began, settling himself between the black-haired man's legs. He paused for a moment as Murata's thumbs traced his lips and pried them open examining his mouth before moving downward once more.

"My mother made me take a lover when I was young. I was living down at South street in the Clark house."

"The Clark house?" Murata's hands felt the underside of his jaw as a clinical doctor would and pressed lightly. "Spitzveg name?"

"Yes, sir," Wolfram continued, arching his neck to allow better access. "We didn't get along at first. Our relationship was platonic, but before I knew it, I was in love."

Murata, hummed in acknowledgment. His hands gently spread Wolfram's arms and smoothed out the pale skin as if paper.

"I chased after him," the blond continued. "I thought he finally held me in my twelfth year. I wasn't and in that year alone, he broke my heart several times."

"A heartbreak then," Murata summed. He took the boy's hands in his own and thumbed two neat scars circling his wrists. "Are these hands yours?" he asked.

"They were my mother's."

"—your feet too."

"Yes, sir," Wolfram answered, sitting straight as Murata took off his shirt to examine his abdomen. "They found me without my own the day my lover left. It was also the only remnants of my mother so..."

"Who patched you up?" Murata continued, hands hovering over healing bruises and old scars.

"Wayside Medical."

"An excellent job too," was the reply. "How long have you been running?"

"Six years..." Wolfram breathed as Murata slid from his seat and spread the blond's legs.

"With whom?" His touch was ghosting over Wolfram's inner thighs.

"S-several people..."

A smirk made itself known on the bespectacled man's face. "Why Goddeseoce? Living as a beautiful street rat, you should know of our reputation."

"Y-yes, sir...hnn..." Wolfram moaned as one long finger ran the length of his manhood. "I-I've heard that y-your Angels a-are well cared for...a-and...hnn!" he swallowed heavily as he felt himself swell and leak. "W-when they f-find clients who w-will take care of th-them, th-they leave with them..."

"Of course that opportunity comes with experience," Murata said sweetly as he slowly pushed Wolfram to the floor. "And neither does every Angel here find true love during their stay."

He leaned in on the blond and placed small licks on his neck, then his shoulders, then his chest and stomach, leaving Wolfram flushed and tingling with arousal.

Murata then sat back and admired the boy. His eyebrow rose at the straining cock. "Resilient, eh? I like that..."

His left hand snaked forward once more and began teasing the blond's nipples, while his right hand snuck its way toward his entrance.

"How many men have gone through here?" he asked.

"T-too m-many t-to count..." Wolfram's answered breathlessly and cried out as a finger slipped in and out of him.

"Can you top or bottom?" came the second question as Murata tweaked and rubbed his nipples some more.

"B-both..." Wolfram felt two fingers press into him and his heart sped up. Light-headedness and the hectic rush of pleasure coursing through his body were clouding his mind.

Murata's fingers brushed against a sweet bundle of nerves inside the blond and made him cry out again, lustful and raw.

"Such a pretty voice too...the clients will like that..."

A whimper escaped Wolfram's lips as the hands left his body. The sound of unzipping pants reached his ears before something warm and pulsating nudged his tight hole. A flash of electricity shot down his spine and made him shiver.

"P-please..." he pleaded.

Murata all but pounded mercilessly into him, hitting Wolfram's sweet spot each time. He felt himself being driven to the edge at every tightening of the boy's muscles around his length.

"S-so hot...and tight..."

"S-si-ir! I'm c—aah!"

Their bodies tensed as the delicious rush of orgasm left them in thick spurts. Murata pulled out as the tingling flush of orgasm subsided and making Wolfram blush as hot cum dripped down his thigh.

"You know what, Sir Bielefield?" the black-haired man spoke, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, making the lenses gleam under the dim light. "I will let you join Goddeseoce..."

Glazed sea-green eyes turned to him and widened slightly at the next statement.

"...as my personal pet."

**TBC**

A/N: Blame the Hetalia Kink Meme. (proceeds to bow profusely in apology for crappiness)


End file.
